Her update on the situation put him somewhat at ease. Though things were not yet in hand, progress was clearly being made toward that end. The tenants milling about – their numbers increasing as time passed – showed no signs of discomfort or fear, only the frustration and annoyance one might expect in such a scenario. Seeing this, Adam set aside his own wariness, chalking it up to the paranoia so often accompanying the hyper-awareness that followed in the wake of a shift. It troubled him that he did not see Alex among the assembled, but he knew her well enough not to fear her lack of preparation; he would call her the moment he was able, and ask him to join them in the safety of the lobby as soon as she could. The solidness of Viola’s touch helped, grounding him in the midst of his wandering mind and growing uncertainties. He smiled softly, a quiet gust of breath escaping him as he chuckled at himself.
“Oh, it’s nothing,” he said, his gaze following hers. But the lines looked as angry now as they had when he had left the hospital’s calm glow; he could not blame her for her concern. “Some junkie crashed his Jag and didn’t realize we were trying to help. Coke and liquor do not a cooperative patient make.” He shook his head, his black eyes moving to hers. “Clawed right through my nitrile gloves, if you can believe it.”